Children of the Revolution
by Teagal7
Summary: Harry & Co. are not they only ones who have been forced to grow up during times of tragedy. This is the story of Minerva McGonagall and her family. Chapter 3 Now Added!
1. Default Chapter

**_Authors Note: Hi all! Aside from stating that all the wonderful and familiar people, places, and things in this story do not belong to me, I should also mention one small thing about the original characters. The McGonagall brothers were included in a story I started a VERY long time ago called And Only Time Will Tell - I think the story actually pre-dates GoF! It's still floating around FF.N somewhere, but I'm not sure how many people have actually seen/read it recently. I know at least one person has because she was sweet enough to email me and convince me to ressurect my story/idea from the land of the dead! Crookykanks, I know this is slightly different than the other story, but I hope you enjoy it! Anyway, hope you all enjoy! -_**

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_Children of the Revolution_

December, 1942

Albus Dumbledore crunched his way through freshly fallen snow towards the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Though it was still only mid afternoon, the December sky was already taking on the purple glow of approaching twilight. Dumbledore's breath rose in gentle, frosty puffs as he crossed the lawn, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his heavy, crimson winter cloak. He inhaled deeply the smell of winter - the cold, sharp scent of impending snow and the earthy dampness of the forest that lay beyond the frozen lake. With daylight fading and the thermometer plunging well below freezing, the deputy headmaster walked quickly towards the seemingly abandoned Quidditch stands, ignoring the urge to pause and enjoy the winter stillness and peaceful silence of the snow covered grounds.   
As any seasoned member of the Hogwarts staff could tell you, moments of total, unbroken quiet were a rare occasion at the largest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in all of Britain. Albus Dumbledore, whose thickly graying auburn beard spoke of many years in the teaching profession, did not particularly relish the blanket of silence that fell over the school during its empty holiday months. For him, Hogwarts was at its best when it was filled with children - the nosier and more rambunctious the better. And while he had joined the other members of staff for a celebratory toast as the last students rattled off down the drive towards Hogsmeade Station earlier that afternoon, he felt rather gloomy knowing that Griffindor Tower was now quite abandoned. It seemed most students had chosen to spend the holidays at home this year, and Dumbledore certainly could not blame them. With Muggle Europe still entrenched in a great World War, and the widening threats of Grindelwald's followers reaching almost every wizarding community in Britain, overwhelming suspicion and fear was unspoken but felt by all.   
With the castle all but empty and the world in a state of general unrest, Headmaster Armando Dippet had given the staff leave for the holidays, encouraging them to spend Christmas with friends and family. Dumbledore had made absolutely sure that the Headmaster would not need his assistance in the coming weeks before securing his holiday plans. His would be a working break, for Dumbledore had perhaps a greater understanding of the dark times ahead than anyone else in the wizarding world. If he was at all worried about the tasks which lay ahead, however, he did not show it. Instead, Dumbledore strolled briskly under the arches of the Quidditch stands and onto the frozen pitch, his blue eyes trained on the sky above the stadium and twinkling brilliantly as a small grin crept to his lips.   
Not all of the Hogwarts students had left for the holidays, at least not quite yet. Two figures sailed high above the Quidditch green, appearing as little more than dueling blurs of scarlet and emerald against the steal gray winter sky. On the far side of the stadium, in the faculty box, a cluster of boys hung over the railing shouting and cat-calling the figures above.   
"Oi! Would one of you bloody score already?"  
"80-80 . . come on, Malcolm, get a move on!"  
"Watch it - watch it -"  
Hovering above the far goal posts, the figure in red slowed slightly. Dumbledore recognized the lean, angular build of Malcolm McGonagall, Giffindor 6th year and Chaser for the House Quidditch team. His dark hair ruffled slightly in the wind as he squared himself in front of the goal, suddenly on the defensive. Halfway across the pitch, the slightly smaller shape of his twin sister and fellow Chaser, Minerva, whizzed towards him with a battered practice Quaffle tucked under one arm, dodging invisible opponents and Bludgers as she bore down on her brother. Dumbledore could only marvel at her speed - even in the raw, blustery cold of December twilight, Minerva McGonagall was an unstoppable force, an emerald green streak dipping and diving against the clouds. Whether she was mimicking the conditions of an actual game or simply trying to confuse her opponent with her lightening paced flying, Dumbledore chuckled gently at her efforts. He'd known Minerva since the day she was born - long enough to know that she put absolute skill and unquestioning perfection into everything she did, even if it was only an informal Quidditch scrimmage with her brother. Her twin, however, was usually only a step behind his sister's overzealous achievements, and Dumbledore could see now, as Malcolm leaned forward on his broom, that he was as dedicated to this battle as she was.  
In the box, the 5 other McGonagall boys urged their siblings on.   
"All right, Min - knock him off his broom!" shouted Tully, the youngest member of the family who Dumbledore knew as a kind and eager Griffindor first year.   
"Stuff it, Tull - my money's on Malcolm. Do you hear me, you great stupid twit?! Don't let her score!" boomed Adian, a tall and brassy 4th year.   
Neither Malcolm nor Minerva gave any response to the commentary from below. After training and playing together on the Griffindor team for the past 3 years, the twins knew each other's strengths and weaknesses inside and out. It was their ability to work as a nearly seamless duo - along with the equally skillful support of friend and fellow 6th year Chaser Ian Kensington - that made up the infamous Griffindor Dream Team. The three of them had managed to score over 3,000 points for Griffindor this season and were largely responsible for the team's current undefeated status.   
Malcolm seemed to feel that his sister was now dragging out her advance. He remained hovering in midair, waiting for her strike, but Minerva was now executing a complex series of loop-de-loops 30 feet above him. In an effort to provoke her attack, he took up his own taunting.  
"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!! Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!" he called under his breath, but certainly loud enough for both Dumbledore and Minerva to hear. Dumbledore laughed openly at his boldness, understanding immediately the origin of this taunt. Minerva, however, was less amused. She stopped dead mid-loop and reversed into a sharp dive towards the goal. A whoop went up from the group in the stands.  
Minerva flew directly at Malcolm without slowing her pace, and for a moment, it looked as though the two might collide. At the last second, however, she pulled up sharply from the dive, towards the highest goal hoop. Malcolm moved to follow her when, suddenly, she plummeted into an even steeper dive, towards the bottom goal. Malcolm quickly reversed direction to follow her move, but he was not quite quick enough. The quaffle grazed his fingertips before whizzing passed him and through the hoop.   
"Malcolm don't you _ever_ taunt me again!!" Minerva crowed, circling the goal posts in a victory lap. Dispite their original support for Malcolm, the other McGonagall children were now cheering openly for their sister.   
"A Wronski Feint-nose dive! That was unbelievable!" whistled Sloane, a skinny, freckled 3rd year.   
"Min, you have to use that one next month when we play Slytherin. They'll drop their teeth!" laughed Gregory, a burly 5th year who was the 2nd oldest in the McGonagall clan after the twins. Minerva now circled back to hover in front of her twin.  
"Well?" she asked him, her voice raspy but triumphant, "Did I manage that one all right?"  
"You did it perfectly, you bloody hag!" Malcolm moaned, sinking slowly back towards earth. Minerva's laughter rang across the pitch, gentle and musical and genuinely delighted.   
"I'll still give you the credit for inventing that maneuver, brother dear. Even if I _can _do it better than you!" she sighed happily, following him down to the snowy pitch.   
"Hey! It's Dumbledore!" shouted Bowen, an always energetic 2nd year. "Hey Professor, did you see Minerva's flying?"  
Now seven pairs of eyes suddenly turned to the man who had, until now, stood unnoticed in the shadows of the stadium bleachers. Dumbledore smiled at the young boy's greeting, and stepped forward into the center of the green.  
"I did indeed see Minerva's most excellent flying, Bowen!" he called jovially across the pitch. "And I must say, it made me wish we were playing that highly anticipated Slytherin match tomorrow!"  
"Well I don't!" Tully shouted back. "Tomorrow's Christmas! When are we leaving, Dumbledore?"  
"Why don't you 5 come down here, and we shall discuss our travel plans," Dumbledore replied, and the 5 boys immediately scrambled towards the box stairs.   
Minerva and Malcolm, who had landed and finally dismounted their brooms, stomped across the snowy ground to join their professor. Their cheeks were rosy and Malcolm's hair was blown into a mass of untamed cowlicks. Minerva's nose was red from the cold and she sniffed sharply as Dumbledore greeted her with a humbled bow.   
"Well done, Miss McGonagall," he said with mock formality. She dropped a polite little curtsey in response. Malcolm rolled his eyes and ran his hand absently over his wild hair.  
"We sent our trunks ahead earlier this afternoon, Professor," he explained, "But we thought we'd wait and walk back with you."  
"A most kind gesture, Malcolm. I thank you."  
The boys were now racing across the pitch towards them as well, and Minerva shoved her broomstick into Malcolm's hands and stooped to tie her bootlace. Malcolm, accepting her broom with a sigh of exasperation, greeted his breathless brothers with a sarcastic grin.  
"Ooo - was that a bit of a run for you lot?" he mocked.   
"Shove off, Malcolm," said Sloane brightly. "So it is true, Professor? You're spending Christmas at Hogsmoor with us?"  
"If you'll have me," Dumbledore replied with a wink.   
The three younger boys gave a great cheer, while the older children simply beamed at their professor. After all, not everyone was lucky enough to have Professor Albus Dumbledore, Griffindor Head and Transfiguration master - and perhaps the most brilliant wizard alive - come to stay at their house over the holidays. Because Albus Dumbledore was a dear old friend of the McGonagall clan, the invitation was extended every year for him to spend Christmas at the McGonagall homestead just outside Hogsmeade. This was the first year any of the children could remember that Dumbledore had accepted their parents invitation - and while the prospect of having the Professor to visit was vastly exciting, it also made them feel slightly shy.   
"I think we'd better be on our way," Dumbledore said, over the excited chattering of the younger children. "Darkness will be upon us before we know it! What say you all? To Hogsmoor?"  
"To Hogsmoor!" was their delighted response. Dumbledore did a jolly about-face on the heel of his boot, offered his arm to a shivery but pleased Minerva, and led the merry group back across the Hogwarts grounds and down the road towards home.   
"Rudolph, the red nosed hippogriff, had a very shiny nose . . ." Tully began singing loudly at the top of his voice. The other boys groaned, but soon joined the song in spite of themselves, trying to drown one another out.  
"Wait a minute Min, I'm stilling carrying your broom!" Malcolm shouted over the song at one point, but Minerva simply lifted her voice louder and ignored him. As they passed the cheery lighted windows of Honeydukes candy store, a light snow began to fall. People bustling through the village streets with parcels and last-minute shopping smiled and shook their heads at the boisterous McGonagall boys, along with their sister and - why, was that _Albus Dumbledore_ throwing snowballs as the children raced ahead up the lane?   
In their wake, a peaceful Christmas Eve descended, like the falling snow, over the village and the school beyond. A sweet, final moment of calm before the storm.  


_Author again . . . So there ya have it - just a little beginning to get the ball rolling! Any and all questions, comments, suggestions, angry hate-mail, etc is welcomed and appreciated! Tehe!! Also, I am in DESPERATE NEED OF A BETA READER! If anyone would be willing to help me out and show me the fanfic ropes (its been awhile) - I'd love you forever and send you many nice presents! Muah! - me (again)  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Huge hugs and muchas gracias to all who reviewed Chapter 1! Because my waaay long winter break continues, and since I have yet to find myself a job, here's a very lengthly update! Wohoo! Your thoughts and feelings are much appreciated! xoxo_

To Minerva, there was nothing more beautiful than the sight of the moorlands under a blanket of fresh Christmas snow. As she, her brothers, and Professor Dumbledore continued up the lane out of the village and climbed the hill beyond, softly falling flakes glistened in the winter twilight. The road out of Hogsmeade narrowed and then crested at the top of a craggy hill before forking off in two directions. The road to the left led down the hill to Hogsmoor - the large, stone manse that had been the McGonagall clan homestead for thousands of years. To the right, the lane became more of a path, a dark and narrow passage that led into the wild hillsides overlooking the moors on one side and the forest on the other.   
As darkness fell and the merry group reached the turnoff, Minerva felt Tully move closer beside her. She glanced down at her younger brother, whose brown eyes were trained fearfully on the lonely pathway that continued up into the trees. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and he cast her an overly bold smile, trying to hide his nerves.   
The others remained oblivious to the dark and ominous path branching out behind them. Adian and Sloane were now loudly coaxing Professor Dumbledore to tell them some tales from his own adventurous past.   
"Is it true that you and Nicholas Flamel can live _forever_?" Bowen asked eagerly.  
"Of course he can, you twit! Everyone knows that!" Adian interjected. Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.   
"Mr. Flamel and I had the good fortune of uncovering the secrets of the Philosopher's Stone quite a few years ago," Dumbledore answered gamely. "Not a moment too soon for Nicholas, I'd wager - he _was_ getting a bit long in the tooth. But to answer your question, Bowen, it is true that my partner and I possess the formula of the Elixir of Life. Whether_ I _shall put that knowledge to good use, however, remains open to debate."  
"So you don't want to have eternal life?" Sloane demanded, openly gaping. "Blimey, I'd give anything to know how to never die!"   
Minerva, who had been contentedly listening to the conversation around her, gave a her brother a sharp look. Sloane could be very blunt sometimes, and for a brief moment Minerva was afraid Dumbledore might be offended by his questioning.  
"A valid statement, Sloane," Dumbledore replied cheerfully, his eyes twinkling faintly in the darkness. "I think you'll discover as you grow older, however, that there's a bit more to it all than the simple question of life versus death."  
Adian gave a short laugh. "Sloane discovering the meaning of life? I'll believe that when I see it!"  
As the other boys fell to laughing, Sloane gave a whoop of protest and fired several snowballs at his older brother. Before long, the two were engrossed in an all-out battle, lagging behind to pelt one another as the rest of the group continued down the road.  
"Come along you two," Minerva called to them.   
"Yes, hurry up - before we all freeze to death waiting for you both to stop being idiots!" Malcolm added. He was carrying his broomstick on one shoulder and Minerva's on the other, making him look like a strange sort of roadside broom peddler. At his words, Adian and Sloane gave up their fight and instead set a barrage of bewitched snowballs after their oldest brother. The others broke into wild laughter at the sight of Malcolm running up the road with his arms full of brooms, a wall of snowballs sailing behind him.  
"Hurry Malcolm, they're gaining on you!" Tully cried with delight. He and Bowen began chasing after Malcolm and the snowballs as they disappeared around the bend just ahead.   
"An impressive show, boys," Dumbledore laughed, "And quite a good Banishing Charm, if I do say so!"  
"Why doesn't he use his bloody broom?" Gregory chuckled as Malcolm's furious shouts echoed through the snowy night.   
"Or simply reverse the spell," Minerva added, shaking her head with a grin. As the group came round the bend at last, they found Malcolm had given up his escape completely and was lying dramatically across the road while snowballs pelted his head. Tully and Bowen were collapsed with laughter just beyond the snowballs' reach.  
"Save yourselves!" Malcolm cried mournfully. "Tell Mother that I love her! And to the girl who could not carry her own broomstick, her gallant brother shall take it with him to his grave! Farewell!"  
"Incendio!" Minerva said drolly, aiming her wand at the snowballs above her brother's head. They melted instantly with a slushy splash. Malcolm removed his hands from face and broke into a pleasant grin.  
"My hero!" he crowed to Minerva as he leapt to his feet, brushing snow from the back of his cloak.   
"It was the broomstick I was worried about," Minerva replied dryly, retrieving it from the ground beside Malcolm's feet.  
"Unless my eyes are much mistaken, Hogmoor is in sight!" Dumbledore declared, putting a quick end to further banter between the twins. All eyes now studied the field ahead where the bright, welcoming glow of Hogsmoor Manse shone warmly in the darkness.  
"Last one home's a filthy squib!" Adian shouted, and he, Sloane, Tully and Bowen took off towards the house. Minerva, Malcolm and Gregory continued to crunch along beside Dumbledore, listening to the wild shouts of the younger boys ahead.   
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore sighed contentedly as they passed between the two stone pillars which marked the beginning of the Hogsmoor drive. "There's no place like home for the holidays!"  
"I'm glad you're spending Christmas with us, Professor," Minerva said, her voice gentle and earnest. "It must get rather lonely at Hogwarts when everyone's away for the holidays."  
"Indeed it does, Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore replied, "And I must say, I could not have asked for better company to spend this holiday with!"  
Minerva felt her cheeks grow pink. She'd adored Dumbledore ever since she was a very small child, but lately she had become particularly close with the Transfiguration professor. This year, she'd begun taking private lessons with Dumbledore on the Animagus transformation. Minerva had dreamed of becoming an Animagus ever since she was a child, and now, thanks partly to her family ties with the professor and partly to her effortlessly perfect Transfiguration marks, Dumbledore had agreed to take her on as his protégé. The smile he gave her now as they stomped up the walkway was the same one he wore when she'd completed a particularly rigorous training session. She could feel herself blushing once again, but was quickly distracted when Tully came barreling out the front door at them, his mouth already full of peppermint imps.  
"We beat you! Hurry up and get in here, dinner's ready!"  
"You wasted no time finding the sweets, eh, Tull?" Gregory laughed, ruffling Tully's hair as they hurried into the warm and welcoming front hall.   
"They're here!" Bowen shouted as Gregory heaved the heavy oak front door closed behind them. Minerva gave a little sigh of pleasure. The Hogsmoor front hallway, with its blazing candelabras and walls hung with ancient woven tapestries and the McGonagall family crest, was brilliantly decorated for the holidays. A towering evergreen covered with a dusting of unmelting snow stood in the far corner. The banisters of the wide staircase were wound with garlands of pine boughs and fairies, casting a lovely twinkling glow. Minerva shrugged off her snowy cloak and hung it neatly on the mahogany coat rack beside the door.   
"There you are!" a jolly, lilting voice announced, and Eleanor McGonagall bustled into the hallway from the dining room. A rather solid woman, her face was round and warm, her dark curls pulled back into a slightly tangled bun. She gave Gregory - who was already rushing past her towards the kitchen - a hearty kiss on the cheek before hurrying to greet Dumbledore.  
"Oh, Albus, I'm so pleased you could join us! Come in, come in, Cameron and the rest of the crowd are in the dining room," she embraced Dumbledore warmly, standing on tip-toe to peck his cheek.  
"Eleanor my dear, you're looking radiant as ever!" Dumbledore declared. "I do hope we haven't held up the feast."  
"Not at all," Eleanor replied firmly. "We've just sat down, the roast is nearly done, and I'm relieved everyone has arrived safe and sound!" Minerva could have sworn she saw her mother's face pale slightly as she spoke these last words, but dismissed it as a trick of the light.  
"And my darlings!" she cried, turning suddenly to the twins. "You both look positively frozen!" she hugged them both at the same time.   
"Happy Christmas, Mother! Did you miss us?" Malcolm asked, bending slightly to kiss his mother's cheek. She laughed and then clucked her tongue at him.  
"Of course I've missed you! Malcolm - you're soaked to the skin! _Ariditas!_" she exclaimed, waving her wand at him. With a woosh, Malcolm's clothes and hair were instantly dry. He grinned, running his hand through his now-strightened hair.   
"And let me have a look at my dear girl," she went on, holding Minerva at arms length and studying her with a tender smile. "As lovely as ever! A wee bit thin though, Minerva darling - Dumbledore hasn't been working you too hard now, has he?"   
Minerva laughed. "No, Mother! He's been very patient."  
"Trust me, Mum, she still eats like a horse," Malcolm said wryly, hurrying out of the hall before Minerva could hex him.  
The Hogsmoor dining room was lit with hundreds of candles floating high above the table top. It was a long, cheerful room with great stone fireplaces at either end and a most magnificent dining table that sat dozens of guests quite comfortably. Minerva and Eleanor found the rest of the McGonagall boys, along with Dumbledore, already seated around the table.   
"Ah, now here she is!" Cameron McGonagall beamed from his seat at the head of the table. Minerva's father was a large, imposing looking man with dark, bushy hair and laughing eyes. Minerva hurried across the dining room and into her father's embrace.   
"Happy Christmas, Father!" she said, burying her face for a moment in the soft locks of tangled hair that fell about his shoulders. While Cameron McGonagall might have looked a bit like a wild man 'o the moors with his long hair and weathered face, all who knew him knew he was a great academic, an amazingly intelligent and truly powerful wizard. He and his brothers, Donsie, Gowan, and Kennin, represented the latest generation of the McGonagall Clan, an ancient family known throughout Britain for their land wealth and powerful magic.   
"How's my Min?" Cameron asked, hugging his daughter tightly.   
"Just fine," Minerva replied, kissing his scratchy, beard-stubbled cheek.  
"And how is she coming along, then, Albus? The truth now, man!" he directed this question to Dumbledore, who was seated on his left.   
"Oh Father, don't ask him that! Not while I'm here!" Minerva groaned, looking sheepishly from her father to Professor Dumbledore. The rest of her family chuckled and murmured with interest.  
"Now, my dear Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore said, "you have nothing to fear. Cameron, your daughter has inherited many of your traits, particularly your keen determination."   
There was a raucous call of agreement from the rest of the table, and Minerva found herself blushing again. While her father gave her a pleased little wink and her mother smiled with pride, Minerva couldn't help feeling slightly let down. After the hours and hours of study and physical training she'd put in, all Dumbledore had to say was that she was determined! Surely anyone could do that! In truth, Minerva was beginning to worry that she might never become an Animagus, and the fear of failure pricked at her stomach and tugged at her heart. The thing she dreaded more than anything else in the world was the disappointment of her family. Taking her seat at the table beside Malcolm and Sloane, Minerva hoped she didn't look as down-trodden as she suddenly felt.  
The dinner was a festive one, with plenty of excited chatter and catching up amongst members of the family. Cameron spoke animatedly about recent news from his brothers, who lived in the wilder parts of Scotland's northern wilderness, prevailing over the many acres of McGonagall land throughout the countryside. The boys were soon sharing their own stories of the latest school adventures, and Dumbledore kept them laughing with memorable tales of his own days at Hogwarts. By the end of the 2nd course Minerva's worries about her Animagus status were quite forgotten. When at last, Eleanor carried the flaming pudding to the head of the table for Cameron to serve, the McGonagall children were so full and contented that their eyes were growing heavy and yawns were barely stifled.   
"I don't think I'll ever eat again," Malcolm moaned, patting his stomach as he reached for a second plate of pudding.   
"Don't forget, we've got the Christmas Day dinner tomorrow," Gregory said, pushing the last of his dessert away. "We ought to be saving room."  
Minerva watched as Tully's eyes began to close and his head nodded precariously close to the edge of the table.   
"I think it's bedtime," Eleanor McGonagall said gently, reaching over to rouse her youngest son. "Tully, darling, you'd best be off to bed. Bowen, Sloane, Adian - you run along upstairs now, too."  
"But Mother!" Adian gave a cry of protest. "Why should I be sent off to bed like a baby? I'm fourteen!"  
"_I'm_ not a baby!" Tully piped up sharply, forcing his eyes open wide. "And I'm not tired yet, either!"  
"Now boys, have you forgotten what day tomorrow is?" Cameron interjected gravely. Tully looked suddenly stricken.  
"Christmas! We've got to go to bed _now_," he gasped, leaping from his seat. "The sooner we go to sleep, the sooner it'll be morning!" and with a quick pause to kiss his mother, he rushed from the dining room and up the wide, sweeping staircase to bed. Bowen was quick to follow, and Sloane and Adian said their own lingering goodnights before heading up after them.  
"Shall we retire to the sitting room?" Eleanor asked, setting her napkin beside her plate. "Twistle and Tyke can take care of all this," she added, waving her wand absently over the table. The dirty dishes and remains of the dinner disappeared with a pop, and Minerva knew that they were now piled neatly in the kitchen, where the two eager house-elves would take care of the washing.  
"An excellent idea - I could do with a nightcap. Albus?" Cameron motioned cordially for Dumbledore to lead the way into the next room. Minerva, Malcolm, and Gregory pushed back their chairs and quickly followed.  
In the comfortable, tartan themed sitting room, hosts of candles blazed cheerily on the mantle and a splendidly decorated Christmas tree stood in the corner by the front windows. Curled up on the hearth before a crackling fire was Minerva's cat, Athena. She immediately gathered the sleepy ball of black fur into her arms before joining Malcolm on the settee near the fireplace.   
"Have you missed me, 'Thena?" Minerva cooed, scratching the cat behind her ears. Athena gave a low meow of approval and stretched out in Minerva's lap, purring loudly.   
"Just think," Malcolm said to the cat, stroking her tail, "with any luck, Minerva will soon be joining in your cat-napping, mouse-chasing exploits!"   
"Oh, be quiet, Malcolm!" Minerva sighed, glowering at her brother. He quickly raised his hands in the air, as if calling for a truce.  
"Only joking, sister-of-mine! You know I'm terribly proud and wildly jealous of your Animagus brilliance."  
"I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said, glancing fearfully over at Professor Dumbledore.  
Dumbledore, however, was not paying attention to Minerva or Malcolm. Seated in an overstuffed tartan armchair, a tumbler of whisky in one hand, he and the elder McGonagalls were deep in conversation. Gregory, who was sitting with his parents on the long sofa across from Dumbledore's chair, seemed engrossed in the adult's discussion as well.  
"You've had no news from the Ministry, then," Dumbledore was saying, taking a thoughtful sip from his glass. "I didn't expect you would. Have your brothers heard anything?"  
"Not recently," Cameron replied. "Though things remain quiet in the north. Do you suppose the information you've had might be false?"   
"I wish it were," Dumbledore said. He looked rather grave, not at all the jovial, fatherly professor Minerva knew. She glanced at Malcolm and saw that he was now listening carefully, too.  
"The problem lies in whether or not the Ministry's informant is trustworthy. I've had word from my own sources that directly contradicts the Minister's reports. I fear that if I am correct, the Ministry defense is being put off by a decoy. And the real danger may be closer than we think."  
Despite the warmth of the fire and the comforting glow of the Christmas tree's candles, Minerva felt a shiver run through her body. She'd been aware of the rumors about the Dark Wizard Grindelwald's arrival in Britain, but she'd doubted the truth behind them. After all, if there really_ was_ such a dangerous enemy on the loose nearby, the news would surely be all over the Daily Prophet! But if there was one thing Minerva knew for certain, it was that Albus Dumbledore was very rarely ever wrong about anything. If _he _believed that Grindelwald was alive and in England, than it must be true. She absently tightened her grip on Athena, but the cat gave a sudden yowl and scrambled from Minerva's arms.  
Now Eleanor McGonagall glanced up at the clock and gave a delicate little yawn.   
"Dear me, it's rather late," she murmured. "You three must be exhausted," here she looked pointedly from Gregory to Minerva and Malcolm. Taking her mother's hint, Minerva stood, pulling Malcolm to his feet along with her.   
"Wait a minute -" Malcolm began to protest. Minerva dug her nails into his arm, cautioning him against further comment.  
"Ow! What - ? Oh. Oh! Right then - well, good night, all! Pleasant dreams!" he started, moving none-to-innocently towards the door. Minerva rolled her eyes in exasperation, but Dumbledore gave a gentle chuckle.   
"I was quite aware of my audience when I began this conversation, Malcolm. And I trust that you three will keep what you have heard to yourselves - and remain cautious."  
"Of course we will," Malcolm said, becoming serious. "Right, Greggie?"   
"Yes sir," Gregory replied, rising from his seat on the sofa.  
"And of course we needn't worry about Minerva," Malcolm added with a crooked grin. "She's more trustworthy than a Gringotts goblin."  
"Off to bed now," Eleanor McGonagall said quietly, crossing the room to kiss her eldest children. "It'll soon be Christmas morning, don't forget!"  
"Goodnight, Mother," Minerva said, returning her mother's hug. "Goodnight, Father, Professor Dumbledore." she nodded to them both, suddenly feeling shy.   
"Good night, children!" Cameron called. His voice sounded overly cheerful.   
"Happy Christmas," Dumbledore added with a smile and a wink.   
The three children hurried from the sitting room and up the stairs to the second floor. The corridor was rather dim compared to the sparkling lights of the decorations downstairs. Minerva paused outside her bedroom door, and Malcolm and Gregory remained beside her.  
"Well, what do you suppose _that_ means?" Malcolm said softly. " 'Danger may be closer than we think' - you don't think Grindelwald's followers are in Scotland, do you?"  
"I don't know," Gregory mused. "Maybe Dumbledore knows something about Grindelwald's plans that the Ministry isn't on to yet. I'll bet he's going to ask Dad and the Clan for help."  
"Oh, don't get on about that bloody 'Clan Magic' business," Malcolm groaned, rolling his eyes. "You'll be sounding like Father, and we know how he gets when he's discussing the 'glorious McGonagall past'."  
"You shouldn't dismiss it, Malcolm," Gregory snapped. "We'll be needing to know how to perform Clannauld Magick someday."  
Of all the McGonagall children, Gregory was the one truly interested in the family legacy of _Clannauld Magick_, a complex channeling of ancient magic founded by the earliest McGonagall ancestors. When worked correctly, Clannauld Magick was extremely powerful, but Minerva knew it was a difficult process that needed the participation of each blood member of the Clan in order to be practiced correctly. Her father and his brothers were widely known for their knowledge of this ancient power, but the new generation of McGonagall kin - made up almost entirely of Cameron's children -were in no real rush to take on this tradition.   
"Greggie, you may be right," Minerva mused, leaning against the doorframe. "After all, it's a fairly obscure practice. Perhaps Dumbledore thinks Clannauld Magick is a weapon Grindelwald won't know about."   
"You should work for the Ministry, oh Queen of Stratagems," Malcolm replied with a droll yawn. "But I've had enough of this doom and gloom talk for one evening - I'm going to bed. It's bloody Christmas in a few hours, as Tully would remind us!"  
"Good night, then," Minerva said, pushing open her bedroom door. "See you both in the morning."  
"Sleep well, dear sister! Come, Gregory! To bed!" Malcolm took Gregory by the arm and marched him towards the bedroom they shared at the end of the hall. Minerva couldn't help but smile at her brother's antics as she softly closed her door and prepared for bed.  
"Of course, Dumbledore wouldn't be taking a holiday if he thought there was serious danger nearby," Minerva mused aloud.   
"Mrow!" said Athena, who was now curled up at the foot of the bed. Minerva laughed.  
"Good night to you, too!" she said, and swiftly turned out the light.

_Note: Ariditas is a 'spell' invented by moi - its just the Latin for 'dryness', I believe. _

_More to come soon, I hope - in the meantime, feel free to review! _


	3. Chapter 3

_Authors Note: Hello, all! First off, thanks so much to the fab readers who have read & reviewed the first 2 chapters. You guys rock! And now, without further delay, I give you . . . Chapter 3! (Ta-dah!) Hope you enjoy!_

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_She stood alone on the road to Hogsmeade. The wind whipped around her in the darkness, howling across the moors. There was someone following her, she could feel it . . . her body quivered, every muscle and nerve poised and alert. The lonely path before her shimmered in the darkness, the outline of dead trees and underbrush surprisingly clear and sharp for a moonless night. The landscape towered before her, familiar landmarks suddenly four times their normal size. Something was quite wrong - the world around her roared with sound and movement, the overwhelming scent of something musky and sour threatened to choke her.   
_

_Home. She needed to go home. But though her body felt charged with a burning current of movement, she was frozen, alone and vulnerable in the middle of the road. Run . . . run . . . there is danger - just beyond the trees - coming down the hillsides - thundering along the road - you can feel it, taste it, smell it, you know it without seeing it or hearing it - run, Minerva . . .   
_" _Minerva!_"  


She sat up wildly, her breath coming in short gasps. Where was she? What was that shadow, coming closer, leaning forward -   


"Lumos!" a clear voice broke the whispery silence.   


Wand-light suddenly flared dimly though the darkened room. Minerva found herself staring into Tully's joyful and sleep-touseled face. He was kneeling on the foot of her bed, positively shivering with excitement. Bowen stood next to him, leaning against the bedpost, looking equally ecstatic. She blinked a few times, and the rest of the room came into focus - Adian and Sloane were both slumped in the lavender velvet armchair by the window, looking only half- awake. Gregory stood in the doorway with his forehead pressed to the door frame, his eyes closed and his body slack. Malcolm was just beside him, his hair ridiculously mussed, squinting at her in the thin light of his wand.   


"IT'S CHRISTMAS!" Tully crowed, bouncing on the end of her bed. Minerva shut her eyes for a brief moment, pinching the bridge of her nose and giving her head a little shake. It had been a dream - that terrible, hunted feeling, that dark, lonely road - none of it was real. She opened her eyes once again, noticing for the first time the faint, pinkish glow of dawn that was only just beginning to filter through the curtains.   


"What time is it?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes.   


"Almost half five," Adian mumbled in response.  


"Urrrrgghhh. . . . Tully . . . its too early . . ." she groaned, sitting back against her pillows. She was aware that her heart was still beating rather fast, and her body felt stiff and achy from being so tense. The physical effects of her terrible dream were still very real. Now that she was awake, she needed a moment to collect herself, but her youngest brother was having none of that.  


"It's never too early for Christmas, Min!" Tully chirped. It sounded as though he'd been awake for hours.   


"Go tell that to Mum and Dad, why don't you?" Gregory croaked without opening his eyes. "We'll wait here."  


Satisfied that all of his siblings were now at least conscious, Tully swaggered out of the room with a grinning Bowen at his heels.  


"Isn't he a bit too old for this pre-dawn Christmas morning bit?" Sloane muttered.   


"He's doing it for spite," Adian answered. "He and Bowen . . . they're plotting against us . . ."  


Minerva shivered. Malcolm, yawning widely, crossed the room and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.   


"Maybe Dad'll tell him to go back to bed," Sloane continued. "I'm sure he's not about to jump up and dance a Christmas jig . . ."  


"You all right?" Malcolm asked Minerva quietly. She'd been staring rather blankly at the window across from her bed, watching the pale light slowly widening the shadows along the curtains.   


"Yes . . . just not quite awake . . ." she replied, coming back to reality. Malcolm was looking at her hard - a particular, careful glance that Minerva knew well. It was the same look he used to communicate with her across the Quidditch pitch or the crowded Griffindor common room - his practiced form of wordless conversation.   


When she refused to meet his eyes, he spoke aloud.  


"What were you dreaming about?"   


She hesitated, not at all sure she wanted to share the details of her strange dream with her brother. Now that she was more awake, the intensity of the scene was beginning to fade. How silly, to be so worked up over walking along the road in the dark! Why, it was something Tully would fret over.  


"I don't remember," she said, smoothing her dark braids back over her shoulders.   


To her surprise, he let the subject drop. "Do you hear that?" he asked, his voice returned to its normal tone. "Someone's whistling the Puddlemere United anthem - oh, bloody hell, they've woken Dumbledore!"  


The five siblings exchanged a wide, worried glance. In her own half-awake haze, Minerva had almost forgotten that Professor Dumbledore was staying in the guest room just down the hall. How awfully rude for him to be woken up so early on the very first morning of his holiday!  


"Tully, you twit," Gregory mumbled under his breath as stuck his head out into the hallway.   


"Ah! Good morning, Gregory! Happy Christmas!" the familiar, light-hearted lilt of Dumbledore's voice now echoed down the hallway. It grew louder as he approached Minerva's bedroom door. "I was wondering when you children would arise - it _is_ Christmas morn, after all!"  


"Sorry, Professor. About Tully, I mean - I hope he didn't wake you -"  


"I'm pleased to say that he did not," Dumbledore crowed brightly. "I myself have been awake since nearly quarter-to-five. I've never been able to sleep in on Christmas, no matter how exceedingly ancient I become!"  


"Come on, come on!" Tully's eager voice cried. He and Bowen bounded down the staircase from their parent's third floor bedroom. Eleanor and Cameron followed sleepily behind.  


"Slow down, Tully love," Eleanor yawned. "Let's collect the others before we go downstairs."  


Adian and Sloane now dragged themselves from Minerva's armchair and out into the hall with the rest of the family. Minerva reluctantly drew the covers back and shivered as her bare feet touched the chilly hardwood floor.  


"Don't be a baby, Min - get some slippers and let's go," Malcolm said, stretching his arms wide as he, too, wandered out into the hallway.   


Minerva donned her dressing gown and slippers, gave her bed one last longing glance and then followed her family downstairs to the parlor, where Christmas was waiting. 

Two hours later, the McGonagall parlor had been transformed into a sea of discarded wrapping paper, gift boxes, and bows. The joyful chaos of opening presents had come to an end, and now the adults sat comfortably on the long tartan sofa, sharing tea and Christmas cake as they watched the younger children play with their new gifts.  


"Mum, can I go out and try my new broom? Please?" Bowen was pleading. It was family tradition that each child was given a broomstick when they turned twelve, and Bowen had spent weeks pouring over the Quidditch Quarterly, selecting his favorite model.   


"Later, Bowen - if you go out now, I'll never get you back in for Christmas dinner," Eleanor said firmly.   


"Oh, Ellie, let the boy go," Cameron soothed. He did not normally contradict his wife's orders when it came to the children, but the holiday made him a bit more relaxed than usual. "So long as he knows he's to come in when he's called." he added, giving Bowen a stern look.  


"Of course, Father!" he called over his shoulder as he raced upstairs to get dressed. Tully, Adian, and Sloane followed his lead, with a treasure trove of fireworks, broom accessories, and Sloane's new pet toad piled high in their arms.   


"Ah, if only every day could be Christmas," Malcolm mused, stretching out on the floor amongst the tattered wrappings.   


"If every day was Christmas, it wouldn't be very special, now, would it?" Minerva remarked, not bothering to glance up from her book. It was a present from Dumbledore, a heavy volume chronicling the lives of famous Animagi throughout history. She was now curled up in an armchair by the fire and so engrossed in her reading that she didn't even notice Malcolm bouncing his new Quidditch World Cup Regulation quaffle repeatedly off her knees.   


"Min, must you always be such a kill-joy?" Malcolm asked lightly.  


"I don't know - must you always be such a pest?"  


"Now you two," Eleanor interjected with gentle caution.   


"Malcolm - what _is _this?" Gregory suddenly asked, fishing through a pile of papers on the floor and holding up a large jar of rather suspect looking amber liquid.  


"That," Malcolm replied haughtily, snatching the jar from his brother, "is _my_ Christmas gift from Dumbledore. Brilliant, isn't it?"  


"It looks like death in a bottle," Gregory said.   


"Ha! There's where your wrong, my dear sir," Malcolm said, shoving Gregory and his box full of chocolate frogs aside to cross the room and hold the gloopy mess up to the light. "With this Essence du Lethifold, I will finally be able to undertake some experiments of my own."  


"If you think you're keeping that in our bedroom, you're dead wrong," his wary brother replied. Dumbledore gave a gentle chuckle.   


"Not to worry, Gregory. I have taken particular care to make sure that container is an unbreakable one. As long as one avoids direct contact with the skin and keeps the substance locked in a closet at night, there is relatively little danger."  


"Malcolm, do be careful with that," Eleanor said, looking a bit fearfully from Dumbledore to her oldest son.   


"Mother, I am not a child," Malcolm said, rather indignant at her sudden apprehension. "If Minerva's allowed to flit about trying to turn herself into a cat, I don't see why I can't work on my own - potentially ground-breaking - projects of interest!"  


"I do not _flit about_ -!" Minerva declared savagely.  


"Enough!" Cameron cut in. "No one is doubting your abilities in the least, Malcolm. Let's not have any arguments on Christmas."  


"Fine," said Malcolm, "I'll just take this upstairs to the closet," and he marched from the room with his present tucked under his arm.  


"What exactly is Essence du Lethifold used for, anyway?" Gregory asked Dumbledore.   


"Well, it has many different properties, some, I daresay, yet to be discovered," Dumbledore replied. "It is a highly potent base for many healing potions, though it's primary use thus far has been in temporary invisibility charms."  


"If I'm not mistaken, it's a sanctioned, imported ingredient," Cameron said, leaning back to light his pipe. "Are you sure Malcolm will be putting that to good use, Albus?"  


"I am, Cameron," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in the merry glow of the Christmas tree. "Malcolm has recently discussed with me his interests in the Healing profession, and his potions marks are some of the best I've ever seen. I have encouraged him to pursue his ideas, under the guidance of Professor Quigley, our esteemed potions master, of course."  


"Isn't that wonderful," Eleanor breathed. "How lovely it'd be to have a Healer in the family!"  


"Yes, well," Cameron mused, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe for a moment. A thin cloud of woodsy smelling smoke rose towards the ceiling. "So long as he's content to stay in Hogsmeade. He's got quite a bit of family responsibility coming to him, Eleanor. As the oldest McGonagall son, he can't just dally off to London to seek his fortune."  


"Cameron, don't talk that way. The children should be encouraged to pursue whatever paths they choose - especially when they show a particular aptitude," she added, glancing over at Minerva before giving her husband a reproachful look. Cameron began to bristle, but Gregory suddenly chimed in,  


"What happened to not arguing on Christmas?" he blurted out.  


For a moment, Minerva thought her father was going to get angry. Indeed, Cameron paused for a moment, staring sharply at his son, before his face relaxed slightly and he took another long pull on his pipe.  


"Aye, you have me there, Gregory. I won't say another word about it. Fancy a bit of chess, Dumbledore?"  


"Indeed, I would," Dumbledore replied jovially, setting down his teacup. As the two men began setting up the chessboard on the side table, Minerva shut her book quietly and rose from her seat.   


"Aren't you going to stay and watch this match, Min?" Gregory asked her as she made her way carefully across the cluttered floor to the doorway. He was sitting beside the chess table now, eager to observe his father and Professor Dumbledore in action.  


"I'll come back in a bit," she promised. "I'm just going to get dressed."  


Once upstairs, however, Minerva padded past her own bedroom door and down the hall to Malcolm and Gregory's room. The door was half open, and she knocked cautiously before pushing it further ajar.   


Though they'd only been home one day, Malcolm and Gregory's room was in state of messy chaos. Hogwarts robes, school books, Quidditch magazines and other piles of bric-a-brac littered the floor. Here amongst the clutter, Malcolm sat in an old captain's chair at his desk, leaning back in his seat and staring thoughtfully out the window. He jumped at the sound of his sister's gentle knocking, and spun around.  


"Just wanted to make sure your potion hadn't attacked you," Minerva said with a crooked grin, gesturing to the jar that now stood on Malcolm's desk, it's contents slowly bubbling.   


"Ha," Malcolm said dryly, turning back to the window. Minerva frowned. It was unusual for Malcolm to sit quietly - especially on a day where celebration and general goofing about was expected. She stepped over a pile of sweaty-smelling Quidditch robes on the floor and sat on the end of her brother's bed.  


"Are you going to tell me what the matter is, or will I have to guess?" she asked sternly. Malcolm remained silent.  


"Did you overhear Father and Mum's little discussion about your future?" Minerva continued.   


"It was pretty bloody hard not to. Father can be awfully loud when he's declaring what other people are going to do with their lives."  


"Yes, subtly is not one of his strong points," Minerva agreed. She waited for Malcolm to continue ranting, but to her surprise, he fell silent once again.   


"It's not like you to take him to heart, though, Malcolm," she pressed him. "You don't really think he's going to bar you from pursuing a Healing career, do you?"  


"Yes, I do," her brother said flatly. "When it comes to the family, and the Clan and its bloody traditions, Father is about as reasonable as a stone wall. It won't matter to him what _I _want to do. It's himself and his _legacy_ he's worried about."  


"But - it's not as if your his only child, Malcolm," Minerva said, absently smoothing at the fraying end of her brother's favorite quilt. "He's got 5 other sons and a daughter who can take over the position of the Clan -"  


Malcolm snorted. "Somehow, I don't think they'll be forcing _you_ to do anything you don't want to do."  


"That's not fair -" Minerva began.   


"You're right, it's not," Malcolm cut in forcefully. "But don't pretend that's not the way things are, Minerva! You don't realize how lucky you are, being the only girl - you've got a dispensation to do whatever you like, to just go off and be brilliant and not be tied to all this bloody history that comes with carrying on the McGonagall name!"  


"Is that what you think I'm going to do?" Minerva's voice rose, and she could feel her cheeks growing hot with anger. "Do you really think I'm just going to off and move away when we're done with Hogwarts, pursue my own dreams and forget about everyone else? You've got a lot of bloody nerve, Malcolm - you of _all _people should know me better than that!"  


"Oh, of course!" Malcolm exploded, his voice rising even louder than hers, almost to the point of shouting. He jumped from his seat, crossed the room and shut the door before whirling around to face her. Whereas Minerva flushed whenever she was angry or upset, Malcolm grew very pale. His face was white and his eyes shining as he stood in front of the door, his fingers still tense on the knob as he spoke.   


"You're right, Minerva - I do know you better than anyone else! And I know how incredibly talented you are - and if you think for a second that Father, or Mother, or _I_ am going to stand in the way of you achieving every possible success in life - then for once, you are wrong! But that doesn't change that fact that _my_ career has been plotted out for me since birth, weather or not I'm interested, weather or not I'm even _good _at what Father wants me to do! You and I both know how hopeless I am at ancient Magick! I think Tully probably understands the whole damn process better than I do!"  


Malcolm moved away from the door, pacing miserably back and forth between Gregory's bed and his own.   


"Dumbledore was very encouraging when I met with him to talk about taking extra Potions sessions with Professor Quigley. He even mentioned finding a potential position for me as an apprentice at St. Mungo's at the end of next year! But you heard Father! There's no way he'll let me go to London, not without cutting me off forever! I was really pleased that Dumbledore found me some Essence du Lethifold, but now I don't know why I should even bother experimenting with it. I wish I hadn't even spoken to him about it at all."  


"Malcolm, stop!" Minerva suddenly snapped, her voice much louder than either of them had expected. Malcolm froze midway between the end of his bed and the door, facing his sister.  


"Be reasonable!" she continued, her voice sharp. "We still have a year and a half before we're through with Hogwarts. So many things can change between now and then, and I won't have you rolling over in self defeat before life's even begun!"   


Her nostrils narrowed slightly as she drew in a long, careful breath, checking her temper before she spoke her next words.   


"And as for the future - I intend to share whatever responsibilities Father hands to you, whether you like it or not! You are _not _the oldest child in this family, Malcolm. I have you beat by 4 and a half minutes. And if that means we are _both_ returning to Hogsmoor to learn Clannauld Magick after next year, so be it. But I'm not leaving you behind, and neither you, nor Father, nor Dumbledore himself can convince me of anything different."  


She nearly added a little 'So there!' to the end of this speech, but quickly stopped herself. Really, if Malcolm was going to be so insistently over-dramatic about things, she too could play at that game.   


Her brother was staring at her now, and a strange, blank sort of look passed briefly over his face. Minerva could tell he was struggling for a reaction - deciding whether or not to continue arguing or just give in to her now. She could be far more stubborn than him when she needed to be, and Malcolm could see that she wasn't about to let him spend Christmas mooning over the state of his future.   


"I'll make a deal with you," he said finally, his voice returning to its normal volume and tone, "If Father does decide to saddle us with this 'family tradition' business, we'll both cut and run to London without telling him."  


"I will hold you to that," Minerva replied with a wry smile, holding out her hand for her brother to shake. Malcolm's face finally broke into its regular, amused little grin, as he crossed the room and firmly shook his sister's hand.

The rest of the McGonagall family Christmas was as peaceful and pleasant as anyone could possible wish. The traditional Holiday Dinner made the feast of the night before look like a bedtime snack. The McGonagall boys lead a careful procession of the haggis into the dining room, while the dusty old bagpipes that spent most of the year mounted above the fireplace sprang to life and played a wheezy tune. There was no further mention of McGonagall clan responsibilities or future career decisions as the merry family and their delighted guest shared puddings and pies and a few boisterously sung carols around the table.   


It was only half past nine when Minerva found herself nodding off, despite the lively game of Charades being played by the rest of her family. After wishing everyone a good night and a Happy Christmas, she retired to bed, too exhausted to even read another chapter from her new book before falling asleep.   


Her nightmare did not return. In truth, after the day's events, she had nearly forgotten all about her strange dream of the previous night. Instead, she dreamed of flying her broom through a lovely forest of decorated evergreen trees, while outside her bedroom window, a gentle snowfall covered the world in a final, light dusting of Christmas snow.

_Psst! Me again! Just a few little comments from moi before I leave you - first of all, I should note that the argument between Malcolm & Minerva was totally not part of my plan for this chapter. They just kind of . . . started arguing - and hey, I wasn't about to stop them! But if that scene didn't work for ya'll or if the conversation seems a little out of the blue . . . thats why. Hehe - I'm blamin' it on the characters - man, what a lame cop-out! _

_Also, I should probably mention that the next chapter is where the action really picks up and things get a bit darker. Oooo - suspense! On that note, I'm also going to be starting classes again soon (yay for college!), so my updating may not be as frequent - but fear not, I WILL be updating! In the meantime, though, if you'd like to review and let me know what you thought this time around - and maybe remind me to get workin' on our next installment - well then, you would be my new friend! Thanks for reading! _

_me_


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